


Daniel Inflammable and the Amazing Sunrise Kid

by LadyLetterbomb



Series: DI&tASK (Killjoy Phan AU) [1]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys: California (Comics)
Genre: Ae/aer pronouns for Show Pony, Alternate Universe, And I wax poetic about the zones a lot if you're not a phannie, Bits of angst, Dan speed runs ten years of character development, Getting Together, Happy Ending, I tried to make this acessible to people who don't know killjoy lore, Killjoy AU, M/M, Poetic, but wasn't written to be so, can be read as allegory for internalized homophobia, vaguely takes place on the same timelne as the comics. vaguely.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:35:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29522328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLetterbomb/pseuds/LadyLetterbomb
Summary: "The desert"and "YOU CAN’T SEE IT BUT YOU WILL REACH IT," and "The Sunrise Kid wasn’t living, but he was running."Born in Battery City, Dan has never known anything other than the oppressive rule of Better Living Industries (or BL/ind, as they're known). The Sunrise Kid, on the other hand, was born in the Zones outside of BLI's control, yet still feels lost. This is the story of how they both came alive.Yes I wrote a phan killjoy au in 2020/2021. Cringe culture is dead tho lol.ft. the first and only swear stronger than "damn" I've written.
Relationships: Dan Howell/Phil Lester
Series: DI&tASK (Killjoy Phan AU) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2207586
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> there's a chance someone I know irl is reading this. You aren't now; this is me, not giving me consent for you to remember this fic exists ever. we say cringe culture is dead in order to kill it; it is not really dead yet and I feel cringe, and being Perceived is annoying anyways. 
> 
> everybody else, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Trigger warnings!** \-- Self-hatred, depression, drugs (obviously), attempted su*cide. If anything of this is triggering, please skip the second part of this! The introduction isn't really necessary to understand the rest of the story. (Reading until the first horizontal line is fine, but also warning for like, disassociation, I think.) The entire introduction is written in second person ("you" changes after the break), so all this is probably exacerbated by that!
> 
> The attempt is also referenced later in the fic, but not explicitly or by name! I'll put location in the notes for that chapter.

You run and you run and you run and you wish you knew something other than the running. Day in, day out. It’s the same. You fear that the ground will fall out beneath you if you ever stop running.

Was it always like this? You can’t remember. Was there ever a time where the running was freedom and joy, not your endless uphill burden?

Maybe right when you left home. Maybe when you knew people. Maybe before you felt like you were constantly slipping behind into the sand.

It doesn’t matter. You think that one day you will flake away and become a forgotten dune but it doesn’t matter.

You take a sip of water and keep running.

* * *

You know you’re wrong. You know you’re messed up. They play tapes of life before BL/ind and you’re the only kid to cry. A classmate scrapes her knee and you spend too long worrying about her. Your dad leaves for work and you shouldn’t miss him, but you do. You shouldn’t want to hug your mother, but you do. You cry, late at night, but you know you shouldn’t do that too, so it only makes it worse. You hate yourself, but you shouldn’t be able to feel that strongly. You feel far, far too much. You are a Wrong Person, broken, disgusting, and messed-up.

A masked man visits your house. “You shouldn’t be feeling so much, and certainly shouldn’t be showing it. It’s unnatural. Take this pill every night, and this one every morning. Remember: Don’t think, just smile.” 

You live your days in a haze, because you’re afraid of being alive. Nothing is real to you. You get your required social time in every day, but nobody ever cares about you and you never care about anybody. Day in, day out. Everything is meaningless, with no greater goal. You try not to think. You try very hard not to think, but sometimes you’ll wonder _why_ and think _there is no reason_ before seeing the “Don’t think! Just smile!” poster and shriveling a little more. You shouldn’t be like this. 

Day in, day out. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Everywhere you look, you are told you are unnatural. You get a crush on one of the few classmates you know. It’s the worst experience of your life. Every time your thoughts single him out, every time you _feel_ in your heart, every time you think about it, guilt and despair rises in your throat. You’re better now, though. You hide it. You hide everything. Hide it all behind a smile. 

The masked man comes by again. “You shouldn’t be caring about your brother so much. We’ve seen how affectionate you are with him. Back off, now.” Your little brother is too young for the pills. You started early, of course, after the first visit. Emotion suppression over developmental freedom, of course. Your little brother doesn’t need to. He hides well, if he even feels too much at all. Everything is in a child’s amount, an appropriate amount.

Nothing days, nothing days. You give your little brother a hug and they take you away. You never get to see him again. Everything in a haze, a shade of grey, despite all the colorful advertisements. Everything is worth nothing. You force half-thoughts into empty smiles. 

Until one day when you take a knife and try to feel again. Try to get away. Try to end the pain. They come to your house and take away all the sharp things. They take you off the thought suppression pills so you can self-analyze for the doctors. They put you on new pills. You take those, but start hiding your old ones. Sometimes there is color in life. 

They moved you to Zone One, to get away from your brother, so you take the train everyday into the city to go to school. After the changes, you start to listen. You start to look. One day, you realize. 

You realize _this place isn’t everything_ and _there’s more to the world_ and _I need to get out_ and _the desert._ You spend a day riding the train back and forth, back and forth. You reach the station, walk out, and walk back on as if you forgot a briefcase. The guards switch and don’t notice. Back and forth, back and forth. You stare out the windows. You don’t want to get off because Off seems more like their territory than the train. 

Riding the train becomes like swinging on a pendulum. In your mind, you swing back and forth too. _Don’t think. Just smile. Stop this now. Stop thinking._ And going backwards: _Why? Why, why, why? What about this is wrong? Why can’t I?_ You think all day long and the idea that maybe, maybe, you aren’t completely disgusting for doing so grows in the back of your mind. 

You arrive at the Zone One town on the last train at 9:30 exactly. You get off. You start walking home, but something catches your eye. You turn, and there’s a ugly green and purple car being chased away from town by a sterile white van. _Killjoys._ You look at the train schedule. It’s been covered by spray paint, which extends over to the rest of the wall. “LOOK FOR THE RED LINE ON THE TRACKS. HEAD EAST. YOU CAN’T SEE IT BUT YOU WILL REACH IT. KEEP RUNNING.” 

You go home and break a drawer. You look at the file they gave you and estimate how much longer they were going to keep you on pills. You count it out and put it in your carbon bank. 

The next morning, you take the first train out and never arrive at the station. You haven’t got a _why_ yet, but you think you know where you can find one. 


	2. The Desert (god I'm in love with the killjoy world can you tell?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First reference to Dan's attempt is in his conversation with Show Pony -- very early on, before the second break. Second is when he's talking to Sunrise Kid about his past, closer to the end. Both times "he doesn't say what, but he/ae can guess."
> 
> Okay I really struggled with chaptering this, b/c I didn't want unbalanced chapters, but "Dan arrived in the desert..." was the first line I wrote and I think it makes a good first line, SO **when you reach the first horizontal line, just like, stare at the wall for two seconds before reading.** Like drinking water before ice cream as a pallet cleanser or whatever lol.

The Sunrise Kid lived off running. 

He ran like it was breathing, like he needed it to survive. Maybe he did. If his life was worth nothing, at least he had this: the running. People flirted in and out of his life, and none of them mattered. So he kept running and kept redlining his motorbike, hoping to reach some unknown destination where things would finally, finally matter. 

He crashed in empty shells and other crews’ hideouts, even at his parents’ place. Sometimes he slept in the desert, curled up in the sand and under a blanket, peeking out at the stars far, far above. 

He prayed. Sometimes he wasn’t even sure for — or to — what, but he prayed and it brought comfort. 

And every morning he woke up and wondered what he was doing and what he was supposed to be doing, and he felt like he was drowning in the emptiness. So he ran to get away from it. He flew through life, waiting for it to begin. 

The Sunrise Kid wasn’t living, but he was running. In the desert, sometimes that’s as close as you get. 

* * *

Dan arrived in the desert with a box of pills and coins, the clothes on his back, and nothing else. He was in desperate need of a place to hide, as well as a gun and a new name. It was before the sun rose, and he ran until dawn, when he finally reached Platform Zero, right where he was told it was: just far enough east from the BL/ind rail to not be seen from it, but easily reachable. It looked like heaven with all the morning’s rays framing it, but Dan was acutely aware of the barbed-wire safety net he was leaving behind.

A voice called out as he approached, “You a hell bat?”

“Hell bat?” he asked, and slowed down. 

Closer now, he could see a figure sitting on a ledge with a broken window behind them. They shook their head. “‘Course a hell bat doesn’t know what a hell bat is. A hell bat’s a newbie, someone fresh out of Battery City. Fresh blood. You explode outta there like all the bats of Hell are after you. Bat City is Hell. Thus, hell bat.” They did jazz hands.

They hopped down and held out their hand. “I’m Show Pony. Ae/aer. That’s my pronouns. You got a Killjoy name yet, kid?”

Dan shook aer hand. He knew the desert outlaws called themselves “killjoys” and have special names. He hadn’t thought about fitting in though. “No. I’m Dan. Daniel.”

“Dan/Danielle?” Show Pony was wearing a collection of clothes that would be generous to call an “outfit”: blue polka-dotted leggings, neon pink rollerblades, a green tye-dye tank top, and three-quarters length fingerless fishnets. A helmet, presumably aers, was perched on the ledge behind them. The Zones clearly had no fashion regulations like BL/ind did. Dan wondered where they got it all. 

“No, Daniel. … maybe.” He ran his fingers through his hair, fingering the ends, slipping on air where there could be more. “I’m fine with anything, but I’ve been Dan my whole life, so I don’t know anyone who wouldn’t call me a boy. But I wouldn’t mind.” 

“That’s all cool, sweetie,” ae said. “In the desert, ain’t nobody gonna tell you what to do. You cool with any pet names? I use them a lot.”

“Um… I’m good with some. I’d prefer it if you didn’t use like, most romantic ones though.”

“All good, kiddo—” ae gave them a mock salute— “On your ‘joy name: Most hell bats like to ditch their old name, but some work it into a desert one. Some also keep it as a best mates-only thing.” Dan stayed quiet. “Take your time,” Show Pony reassured him. “You’ll find something that fits eventually — a lot of hell bats go through a couple in their first week. Meanwhile, what’s in the box?”

“Coins and pills. —Not normal BL/ind ones! I’ve got an extra set, to keep my mood up.” Ae cocked their head. “Depression,” he clarified. “Eventually I should be able to get off them. They only put me on last year, after I…” He didn’t say what. Instead, he shrugged and finished with, “People used them pre-war too, I’ve heard.”

Show Pony still knew. “Hey, chickadee,” ae said, aer voice low. “It’s alright. Most people in the Zones have lost someone like that. It’s good to have you here with us now.” 

Dan smiled. “Thanks.” 

Show Pony grinned back. “Come on, sunshine! I’ll introduce ya to some folks inside.” Snatching aer helmet on the way, ae skated off. Dan followed aem inside the crumbling shack. 

Inside, a ‘joy wearing a black-and-white jacket sat on a box, disturbingly sharpening a knife despite the gun at their waist, and some goth sat in a corner. A pig-tailed girl wearing rollerblades like Show Pony’s and leaning against the wall waved as they entered. Show Pony clapped, getting the other’s attention. “Everybody! I present to you: a hell bat!” Ae dramatically gestured toward Dan. ”Introduce yourselves!” To Dan, ae added, “This group’s got a good collection of different names. For inspiration, like.” 

“Heyya! I’ll go first,” the girl by the wall said. “I’m NewAGoGo, Newsie for short. I use she/her pronouns! Me and Pony both do go-for errands around here; ae work for Dr. D — that’s Dr. Death Defying, he’s the biggest radio DJ around — and I’m a bit more freelance.” 

The knife joy had gone back to their knife, but they looked up again now. “Bella Muerte. Don’t care.” She grinned. “I kill. Mostly Dracs.” Dan’s eyes went wide, but he quickly straightened his face. 

“York,” the kid in the corner said. “He/they. Aspiring goth and poet. Basically I try to have her style —” he pointed his thumb at Bella Muerte “— and Cherri Cola’s job.” Dan wasn’t sure if it was worth asking who Cherri Cola was then, or if he’d just find out later. York realized anyways and facepalmed. “Forgot you’re a hell bat. God, hell bats know _nothing_. Cherri Cola does lines on the airwaves. He’s on Dr. D’s show sometimes, but he also has his own show.” Dan nodded like he knew what any of those sentences meant. 

“So!” Show Pony clapped and said. “I’ll show you around next, chickadee. It’s not much, but Platform Zero is a good little waypoint. In fact, I think I’ll be crashing here tonight. We can play games! Anyone else?” Bella Muerte raised her hand. 

“I’m going to head to The Nest and meet up with Hot Chimp,” NewsAGoGo said. “We’ve got plans. Nice meeting you, hell bat!” She waved and skated away, the wide curls in her pigtails bouncing. 

“I’ll stick around,” York said. “But the rest of the NOISEmakers are expecting me by evening.”

“Great!” Show Pony said. “Come on, kiddo, I’ll show you around.” Ae waved Dan to a door. 

Dan blinked and tried to process everything just said. There was already so much _more_ to the Zones than he expected. Would he ever fit in among all this noise and color? 

Battery City and the BL/ind town in Zone One both had color, but it wasn’t the same. When BL/ind used color, it was ingenuine; they were always trying to sell something. With Killjoys, it was different. They _claimed_ their colors. The colors were a proclamation, a flag they wore. Even the black on York and Bella Muerte felt _loud_. 

Dan looked at his clothes. White button down. Black dress pants. Generic, even for City clothes. He wondered what kind of clothes he would wear in the months to come. He wasn’t quite sure what kind of person he was. Not yet. 

* * *

The Sunrise Kid’s lived in the desert his whole life. His parents still live in Leftport, Zone Three, just as they did when he lived with them. They try to keep the small community together as much as possible — and slightly sabotage BL/ind’s operations while they’re at it. 

Sunrise Kid’s gone by half a hand of names, but this one’s his, even though he ain’t a kid anymore. Everyone in the Zones is a kid though, in a way — only those in Batt City or born before the Analog Wars really become adults. Sometimes not even then — the Fabulous Killjoys stayed young. Some more than others, but on the whole the crew didn’t ever become proper adults.

Crew. Sunrise doesn’t have a crew. Everybody likes him, but he doesn’t fit in, proper, anywhere. He’s got a fair amount of close friends, all members of larger crews, some he’s even friends with everybody in. He ran with one of them for a while, and it was good ‘n all, but eventually they changed, and he changed and stopped fitting in as well, and that was the end of that.

So he runs by himself, staying here and there and everywhere, wondering how long a life lasts in the desert. How long it should last, living like this ‘n all. It don’t feel like livin’, but at least it’s more than what the city folks got. 

The Sunrise Kid always goes to bed hoping tomorrow is better. He lives off the promise of a future, hidden somewhere in the many tomorrows he hopes he has. Tomorrow is enough, because it has to be. 

* * *

He sleeps at Platform Zero, on a cold palette in the backroom. The Platform only has three rooms: the main room, with two doors; the back room, with what Show Pony claimed is one of the twelve intact windows in the entire Zones; and the bathroom. (“We just pray to the Phoenix Witch and usually it works. Supplies come from train raids, most supplies do.”)

He wakes up alone and tired but strangely unafraid. There’s noise to his right. The crackle of a radio and a low voice. _“And back to me, your loyal Doctor.”_

“Finally!” Show Pony’s now-familiar voice exclaims. “It’s a bright new ‘morn, chickadee! Bella Muerte already left, so right now it’s just me and you. And Dr. D.” Ae gesture to the radio, which is talking about seeds and soil and a girl and a revolution while spewing synthy sound effects. He sits up and sighs over the slight waves in his hair reflected in the window, trying to sort it out. 

They don’t have breakfast. He’s never not had breakfast before. BL/ind makes sure every citizen always has the perfect amount of nutrients. Show Pony’s used to it though, and ae say that he’ll adjust to it. Most days there’s something to eat anyways, like Powder Pup. He’s not sure if he’d take dog food if it was available.

Aer insistence that Power Pup is “entirely edible” and “really not so bad” is broken by the sound of a motor outside. A motorbike with parts painted in alternating green and blue grinds to halt outside the door. “It’s the Sunrise Kid!” Show Pony squeals. “You’ll like him — he’s one o’the most angelic of all us dust angels.” To the figure outside, ae call, “Sun Kid! Come in! I’ve got a hell bat in here!”

So-called “Sun Kid” nearly falls off his bike and stumbles inside. In the clearer lighting, the boy has a better look at the Sunrise Kid. His sense of style is possibly even worse than Show Pony’s: he’s thrown together some fairly questionable clothes into a truly astrocious outfit that matches a gaudy blue sequin shirt with a plaid button-down tied around his waist. “Hi, I’m the Sunrise Kid,” he says and grins. “Nice to meet you.” He holds out his hand for the hell bat to shake. 

“Hi. I, uh… I’m still working on my name,” he says and shakes his hand. Sunrise’s hair is in a (literally) sandy quiff that’s been driven over by the breeze. It’s horribly messy, but also kind of handsome. “Nice to meet you too.” Having a good handshake is very important in the city; Sunrise’s handshake is horrible, over-eager with a too tight grip and an excessively vigorous shake.

“Cool, cool.” Sunrise nods. “Finding a name takes a bit.” 

“Wait! Idea!” Show Pony claps. “Sunrise! You going to market this evening?” Sunrise nods. “Great! Can you take our darling little hell bat there and get him equipped?”

“Sure. You got any carbons, kid?” The hell bat doesn’t look like much right now, hiding behind a shy fringe, but Sunrise bets that, styled up a bit, he could be something special. 

“Yeah, I do. Bat City gave us an allowance but I never spent much.” Back in the city they were advised to spend as much as they could, but saving up was allowed. He wasn’t mentally present enough for the “incredible thrill” that buying BLI products allegedly induced to incite him to buy more than the requirement, so he had a pretty solid stash of carbons by the time he left the city. 

“Great!” Ae says. “I’ll be off, you’ll be off, light ‘em up and shoot ‘em off, spend hours like days before you go off, I don’t even know what I’m saying anymore, bye!” Ae pops on their helmet and skates away. 

“Jesus Christ eating rice,” he says. “Is— are ae always like that?”

The Sunrise Kid giggles. His tongue pokes out between his teeth. It’s weirdly endearing. “Sorta. You ready to roll?” He puts on his helmet. “Oh, wear these. Sand, eyes.” Sunrise waves his hand around and tosses a pair of sunglasses at him. 

He gets on his motorbike, but the brown-haired boy stays put. “Uh,” he says. “Where should I sit?”

“Just behind me. Uh, here, wear my backpack. You can wrap your arms around me. I won’t mind.” He takes on an overly flirty tone. “ _Honey_.”

The hell bat blushes. “Alright. _Darling_.”

“Well then, come on, _babe_ ,” Sunrise says.

He barely has time to awkwardly latch on to Sunrise before the killjoy slams the accelerator, immediately destroying his carefully styled fringe. _Maybe I should get rid of it anyways._ The air tastes of freedom as the desert blurs past. _This,_ he thinks, _is something new, where I’m supposed to be._

(The air also tastes of sand. Good thing Sunrise lent him his sunglasses.) 

* * *

Life comes and goes in the desert. People come and go. But colors and feelings stay. The wind and the sand and the sun stay. And the yearning stays. The striving. The wishing.

Freedom. Desert folk aren’t caged, but does that make them free?

* * *

“So. Fresh face. You got a name yet?” Sunrise asks him. They’ve been driving for a bit now, and he’s given up on trying to keep a gap between his stomach and Sunrise’s back. “Unless you wanna be called ‘Fresh Face’,” he jokes.

“I’d give that a solid ‘no’,” he says. He’s not sure how much he wants to hold on to the name Dan, but he isn’t set on a new name yet. “Almost,” he says. 

They arrive at their destination. It’s the old diner, the one the Fabulous Killjoys used. People visited a lot right after, but it’s been a while, and most killjoys find it disrespectful to try and repurpose it. Short stays, though— well, it’s what the Fab Four would have wanted.

‘Course, he doesn’t know that. “What is this place? Aren’t we supposed to be going to the market?”

“A little detour. I wanna show you the view. Plus, the market isn’t gonna open up ’til later,” he says. He doesn’t say that he wants to keep the brown-haired kid around as long as possible. He’s not even sure why he does. The kid’s cute, he supposes. That’s probably it. “They can’t start setting up ’til after midday. Anyways, this is like, a sacred place. You know the Fabulous Killjoys?” 

They get off the motorcycles. “I think. There were old posters on the rail. They used to be all over the city. They were… the symbol.” 

“Yeah, they were. Also, hold that thought on the city — I’ve been meaning to ask you about how you got out. But anyways, this diner, the DIE-nr—” he laughs “—it was their home base. Let’s go up to the roof. We can talk more there.”

He follows Sunrise around the corner to a dumpster. Sunrise easily scales it and pulls himself up, but the brown-haired boy slips. “Here, you gotta step on the thicker part and reach the other side. I’ll pull you up afterwards.” He follows Sunrise’s instructions and reaches the top of the dumpster. He grabs the edge of the roof and lifts himself up as much as possible. Sunrise reaches for his torso and pulls him the rest of the way up. Sunrise tumbles backward, and the kid — god, he’s even taller than Sunrise — lands nearly right on top of him. They both blush. 

“Sorry,” he says and gets up. 

“It’s okay. Come on,” Sunrise says and waves him to the other side of the roof. “Sit down.” It’s not a particularly interesting view, but they admire it all the same. “Sunrise and sunset are beautiful from here. Whatever shit’s in the Outer Zones makes it look like the whole goddamn desert’s on fire.” The Sunrise Kid turns to him. He doesn’t notice, his brown eyes still tracing the horizon. “Deep in thought, eh?”

He turns toward Sunrise, a little surprised at how close they are. “Yeah. It’s okay, right? Right now’s a good time?”

“What do you mean? For thinking?” His face softens. “They really get to you city kids, huh. Sunshine, ain’t nobody gonna come after you for thinking anymore.” _I’ll make sure of it_ , he wants to add, but he doesn’t. It’s an empty promise; he won’t be around much longer. Will he?

“Okay.” He smiles. Sunrise thinks something’s a bit strange about it, but he can’t put his finger on what. “I was thinking about my name, by the way. I think I got it.”

“Yeah?” Sun Kid leans forward. 

“Daniel Inflammable,” he says, doing that thing with his hands like he’s imagining it up in lights. You know the one. Suspicious guys do it when they’re trying to get the protagonist to sell out and abandon their friends to become famous. Wait no, that’s definitely not the connotations I want here. “What do you think?”

“I like it. Classic.” He nods. “Hey, wanna hear a secret?” Daniel quirks an eyebrow. “When I chose this name, it was actually ‘the Amazing Sunrise Kid’. People just liked shortening it, and I went along.”

“Oh, you think you’re so great, huh?” Daniel teases. He elbows Sun Kid. “Wait, is the ‘the’ part of it?”

“You know, I’m not really sure. I never did decide on that.” He giggles. The newly-christened Daniel Inflammable can’t help but join in.

* * *

Names mean a lot to most people. A name is an identity, a shorthand way of saying everything that is you. It’s one of the few parts of yourself you take through all your life, and you see it every day. A lot of people spend a lot of time searching for a name that fits and clicks and feels right. “Names hold power,” people say. Such a summary of one’s entire self is important to people. 

Not everyone, of course. For some people, a name is simply what word you look up at. Something someone told them they are, and if it doesn’t seem wrong, why change it? A name can just be what you call yourself.

What’s in a name? A person, a meaning, a life. One to four syllables, some familiar sounds, a handful of characters. Your choice. 

* * *

“Hell bat? You’re in luck; I just cleared a vending machine, and I like to equip the unequipped for free. Community service and all.” The pink-haired vendor grins and hands Daniel a white laser gun. “You’ll have to pay for paint, of course.” Vey laugh. Sunrise says he has some in his bag, but Daniel purchases some more red, orange, and black, in case he doesn’t have enough. 

“Where next, Mr. Sun?” Daniel asks as they walk away, pulling the motorbike along. “Wait, sorry, _dearest._ I got a gun. What else do I need? Besides new clothes, of course.”

Sunrise thinks for a moment. “Radio. Honey. Nearly every ‘joy, from the rock ‘n rollers to the crash queens’ got one.”

“Whatever you say, babe,” Daniel says. “You know, I’ve been trying to pick up the slang through osmosis, but I don’t think it’s working.” He laughs. “Oh, Show Pony said you were, like ‘a real angelic dust angel’ or something. What does that mean?”

Sunrise Kid blushes from the secondhand compliment. “A dust angel used to just be anyone out here in the Zones, but usually people use ‘killjoy’ instead these days, so now it’s more for drifters like me, those without any crew. It was real sweet of aem to call me angelic.

“Yeah, we call ourselves lots of things out here,” the Kid continues. “Crash queens are speed demons, usually young racers. Rock ‘n rollers are the musicians: there’s lots of bands out here. There’s also motor babies, who grow up with the gangs but sometimes aren’t even kids— I can’t go through them all, there’s so many and the definitions aren’t that clear anyways. Plus, ‘joys make up new ones all the time — heard some are calling the Ultra V’s ‘deadliners’ cuz they’re gonna end up dead.” He looks at Daniel. “That wasn't helpful at all, was it?”

He laughs. “It was a little helpful! It’s just a lot at once. Like, I’m guessing the Ultra V’s are a gang, right?” 

“Yeah, Val Velocity is their leader and they're stirring up a hell of trouble right now,”— Sunrise shakes his head— “trying to overrun Bat City. Anyways, I know a guy who’ll sell you a radio for cheap, come on.” They keep bumping each other’s shoulders as they walk. It’s totally on purpose. 

The gaps grow smaller as the day blurs by. You can’t live all the time, of course — there are still placeless moments. But today, right now, it feels like a day. Moment after moment after moment. Here. Now.

It’s one of those precious times where fully, without a meta-narrative or parallel thought chain or preoccupation or mental distance, you simply exist.

You feel alive.

“ _What_ is _that_?” Daniel says. “Stop.”

Sunrise stops. They’re walking past the clothes section at the market, dragging the bike along, looking at the fabrics hanging from lines like flags. “What? Something caught your eye?”

“Yeah,” Daniel says and dramatically points, “ _that_.” It’s the worst thing the Sunrise Kid has ever seen. The very idea of it is horrific, disgusting beyond words. It’s a leather T-shirt.

“No. _No_. You can’t— no!” He keeps shaking his head. He’s only known Daniel for a day, but he can tell how futile his efforts to deter him are going to be. 

“I’m buying it,” he announces. “It and the pants.” The pants in question are unquestionably the leather pants on the nearby table.

Sunrise switches tracks. “Aren’t you going to get hot?”

“What?—” Daniel strikes a ridiculous pose “— am I not hot enough for you now?”

He sighs, but hides a smile behind his hand. “Why are you like this?”

“Excuse me, you’re the one that started—“ he waves vaguely in an attempt to sum up the flirting “—this. Babe. And let’s not question it too closely.” He smiles on instinct. _Don’t think. Just smile._ “And you haven’t succeeded in distracting me from my wonderful outfit. 

“You know,” he continues, “I was horrified when I first saw the way you all dress out here. But now I understand: the outfit, it calls to you. You have no choice but to put more cringe into the world— OH MY GOD THAT JACKET.” It’s even shinier than the Sunrise Kid’s shirt and in silver instead of blue. Daniel thinks the appropriate word is _bedazzled._

“Oh, Witch, no,” Sunrise says, but he doesn’t really object. After all, it _is_ similar to his shirt. “Do you even have enough carbons to buy them all?” 

Daniel Inflammable grins. “Yes, thanks to your cheap radio deal. You can’t stop me, sunshine,” he says, gathering his chosen items. 

The Kid shrugs. “At least it matches my gold blazer.”

Daniel stops walking to the vendor, pivots, and points. “You! Have a shiny gold blazer that you didn’t tell me about!” (Nobody’s really paying attention. This is boring for the Zones — not too far away, two crash queens are competing to see which can yell out the names more exes of the other. Half of the said exes are there, cheering them on.)

“We’ve known each other for less than a day!” he protests. How does it feel like they’ve known each other for years already? Sure, they talked on the motorcycle rides (Sunrise drove slower than normal once Daniel tried to speak, and he was more than willing to sacrifice time to continue conversing), but it hasn’t even been a full day yet. Being on the superstitious side, Sunrise thinks something about complementary souls before being interrupted. 

“Fair. Got any other secret articles of clothing I should know about?” 

“I do have a leather jacket. Maybe I’ll let you borrow it.” Daniel gets a wicked grin. Sunrise regrets saying anything. Clearly this is the beginning of a long and wonderful friendship. (They hope.) 

Dan buys his terrible, horrible outfit and goes inside a provided tent to change. Sunrise Kid leans against his motorbike and thinks about how pretty Daniel’s brown eyes are. His whole face, really. It’s all just beautiful. Witch, he’s such a hopeless romantic. 

“You pastel, Kid?” Show Pony skates up. 

“Oh, hi Pony,” Sunrise says. “No, I’m not pastel.” This assertion is counteracted by the blush climbing his cheeks. 

“Oooo you are!” Ae grin. “It’s the hell bat, isn’t it?”

He hides his face in his hands. _God, I am too transparent._ “No… maybe.” He looks up and adds, “He decided on the name Daniel Inflammable too.” 

“Shiny,” Pony says. “You fall fast, Sun Kid. Keep ‘im around, kay? I gotta a fine feeling ‘bout this.” Ae start skating away. 

“I’m not—” he sighs and gives up as Show Pony gets too far away. “It’s just a crush,” he adds to himself. 

Daniel Inflammable reappears and strikes a pose. “Fashionable, eh?” He has the whole ensemble on, glitter jacket, leather T-shirt, and leather pants. It’s legitimately ugly, but isn’t that the point?

“No.” Sunrise shakes his head. “No— no, not fashionable at all. But very shiny, in both ways.” 

“Wait, what’s the other meaning?”

“Uh, like, cool. Neat. Rad. Radical.”

Daniel snorts. “Okay, thanks, but who the hell says ‘radical’ anymore? Anyways, where to next?” _We’re staying together_ runs around both their heads. _I want us to, as long as possible._ “Yeah, that’s right, you aren’t rid of me yet.”

“Good,” Sunrise says. “I like you.” He blushes. Nerd. 

Daniel Inflammable’s cheeks are also on fire. What a nerd. He quickly tries to change the topic. “Uh, um, you’re right, this is pretty hot. Can I put the blazer in your bag?”

“You know, we should just buy you your own bag,” Sunrise says, but he stuffs it in for Daniel anyways, along with his old clothes. “We can hit up a place on our way out. I want to buy some more food too.”

The rest of the shopping goes smoothly. Afterwards, they bust a few carbons on a pinball machine someone set up, first trying to beat the high score and then beating each other’s high scores. 

It’s late in the afternoon now, long shadows being cast from all the mismatched parts of the marketplace. It stays open late into the night, but they aren’t going to stick around. Daniel yawns and tugs on Sunrise’s sleeve. “I wanna go back to the diner. I wanna see the sunset from it.”

“Okay. How are you tired already?” Sunrise says. He still doesn’t say he’s glad that Daniel wants to stick around, because if they don’t speak of splitting up maybe it won’t happen. 

“Dunno. Sun, probs,” Daniel replies. “So much running.”

“We’ll have to hurry to get back in time. Don’t fall off the back of my bike.”

“I won’t. I’ll hold on extra tight to make sure.” Daniel winks.

They don’t talk about it. How this was supposed to be a quick favor to a stranger in need but they’ve managed to make it a day trip. This is strange. They should move on. Or is this how you find a home, a crew? 

The Sunrise Kid does drive fast, too fast to talk, but Daniel doesn’t mind because he’s almost falling asleep on the back, worn out from a long day in the sun. Speaking of which, the sun’s already licking the horizon by the time they reach the diner. “Come on,” Sunrise says. “You don’t want to miss it.” He pulls Daniel off the motorcycle and they scale the side together. They reach the top just in time and sit in the same spot they did in the morning. 

“Wow,” Daniel says. “You’re right. It is like the whole place is on fire.” The whole horizon is blazing red, with lighter oranges and yellows higher up. It’s all shimmering, like the air above hot pavement. He moves his hand so that it’s on top of the Sunrise Kid’s. 

“Yeah,” the Sunrise Kid says. “It’s beautiful.” He turns to Daniel and ventures for a cheeky “So are you.”

“Shuuuut uuuup.” Daniel laughs and playfully pushes him. 

“No,”— Sunrise nods eagerly—”I mean it.” 

Daniel gives a shy smile. “Thanks. You’re a fine fella yourself.”

They laugh. “Thanks.” 

They look outwards again, past miles and miles of sand, over cacti and the faint specks of lone buildings, with Battery City glowing to the north, and watch the light fade from the day, the warmth slip below the infinite line. 

It’s a few silent minutes, or perhaps a thousand years before either of them speak again. The stars begin to dance above their heads. “Oh,” Sunrise says, “I was going to ask you about how you got out of the city, last time we were here, wasn’t I?”

“Uh, yeah,” Daniel says, unsure of where to start. “I guess, well, I always didn’t fit in. I think too much, feel too much, ya know?” Sunrise squeezes his hand. _Safety_. “And the city didn't like that — they didn't like me — so I didn't like me. And uh, it got really bad and I tried, I tried uh, to…” He looks at Sunrise, not wanting to say it. 

“I can guess,” he quietly says. “Go on.”

Daniel breathes a sigh of relief. “Well, they took me off some of the pills after that, so they could get me to like, self-analyze and whatever.” He smiles again, on instinct. It’s a hollow smile. “Had an epiphany that I could get out, rode the train all day long, came back to Zone One, saw some graffiti with directions to Platform Zero, and followed them the next day. Which was yesterday, I guess. Wow, it’s been a long day.”

“Ha, yeah it has,” Sunrise says. “Wait, why were you in Zone One? The BLI town there?”

“I had a brother.” Daniel sighs. “I shouldn’t have cared about him so much, so they took me away. Lived with some bots pretending to be my parents. I haven’t seen my brother since.” 

“I’m sorry. That’s not fair; siblings are supposed to be close.” Sunrise asks, “What were your real parents like? Oh, sorry, you don’t have to answer.” 

“No, it’s okay. I’ll tell you,” Daniel says. “My mom was okay, but she was too nice and they bleached her when my brother was five, four years before they took me away. So when I was 13. She was always worried about getting taken away and leaving us alone, especially after my dad, so she was… purposefully distant at times. Guess it wasn’t enough. 

“My dad… he wasn’t the best, but he tried. In the end it didn’t matter because they replaced him when I was eight, right after my brother was born. He was busy, so he tried too hard when he did make time for me. I don’t really remember him well.” 

“I’m so sorry, Daniel.” Sunrise gives him a tight hug. Daniel stiffens, then relaxes. “I’m here for you.” Daniel buries his face at the crook of the other boy’s neck and feels like crying. 

They watch the stars, lying on their backs. Sunrise realizes that today was the first full day he’s had in maybe forever. Today, he didn’t feel like he was waiting for some unknown future. He didn’t feel like nothing. He was just there, being alive, for most of the all day long. 

The stars spin overhead, and everything seems settled, at peace.

Sunsets aren’t worth much, are they? Little blips of color at the edge of the world. Never as dramatic as you want them to be. Just a smudge of orange. 

But still pretty, aren’t they? A glow in the distance that infiltrates the clouds. The way they fade into the sky. How strongly the color comes in. 

What makes it worth anything? It doesn’t have to be picture-perfect in order to be beautiful. If you liked it, it was worth it. Besides, does it matter? People go through life and things happen. No great meaning need be ascribed to everything. 

Sometimes you look out and see a splash of orange on the horizon and pink in the clouds, and you say “Wow, really pretty sunset,” and admire it for a bit, and that’s it, just a little moment in a lifetime. And it’s enough. 

He sleeps on the roof of the diner, in Sunrise’s leather jacket, curled up next to him. He was too tired last night to climb back down and go inside, so Sunrise gave him the jacket and spread out a ratty blanket for them. There’s a rustle. Daniel Inflammable opens one eye. Sunrise is leaning against his re-stuffed backpack, looking at him. “What, can’t keep your eyes off me, can you?” 

“No,”— the Sunrise Kid grins— “I can’t. You’re just too pretty. Stop being so damn pretty, Daniel.” 

“Sorry, no can do, prettyboy. Also, how rude of you to take my blanket,” he says, stretching. 

“It’s not your blanket — we shared it, and I own it. I was getting warm when I woke up so I tried to make you more comfortable.” 

Daniel walks over and ruffles his hair. “Awww, you’re so sweet!” 

“Your hair is curly,” is the only thing Sunrise can think to say, pink rising in his cheeks. 

Daniel reaches up to touch his own hair. “You didn’t notice yesterday? I couldn’t straighten it then, but I guess the day before’s treatment held over enough. I straightened it every day in the city, but I don’t think I will anymore.” He shakes his thick curls out, tumbling off his head. 

“Do it,” Sunrise says. “I like them.” He abruptly stands up and runs his fingers through Dan’s hair, smiling cutely. Daniel’s face heats up. “They’re pretty. Like you.” He giggles. 

His hand falls down to hold Daniel’s, pulling him towards the edge of the roof. “Come on!” he turns back to call. “Let’s go!”

“I just woke up!” Daniel protests. Unfortunately, the hand-holding is not helping the blush. “And where‽”

Sunrise laughs. He laughs because the faint windchimes carried by light breeze seem happy to him, because the sun is up and it’s a bright new tomorrow, just because. He laughs carelessly, like there isn’t any reason to worry in the world, like everything is wonderful. Daniel Inflammable finds it hard to believe someone could laugh like that in this world. Sunrise grins. “Everywhere.” 

Right before they get on the motorbike, Daniel finally puts words to what they’ve been thinking about. “So you’re letting me stick with you?”

“Letting you?” Sunrise jokes, “I thought I was pulling you along as a hostage! But yeah, of course, mate: please do tag along, for however long you want.”

Daniel smiles, showing off his deep dimples. “Maybe I’ll stay by your side for the rest of our lives,” he whispers into Sunrise’s ear before he puts on his helmet.

Sunrise grins. “I don’t think I’d mind.”

* * *

Sunrise takes him to all his favourite places. The Nest, the Witch’s Garden, Paradise Motel. It takes the entire day to criss-cross the desert, and they end up crashing in a shelled-out townhouse, along with a crew of three named the Superchargers — Galactic Killonova, Tsunami Storm, and Lightning Rod. They’re the “live fast, die young” type, but Sunrise and Inflammable get along alright with them for the most part. Well, Sunrise gets along with everyone, and Daniel can tolerate it. 

“You take left, we’ll take right,” Tsunami Storm instructs. “Leave one room for the bugs, ha. Lightin’s gonna try and jinx our blasters, but we’ll try not to keep ya up.”

“We’re gonna go on a warehouse raid at dawn,” Galactic says. “So if we don’t see you tomorrow,” —he salutes— “keep running and all that.” Daniel and Sunrise return the farewell and head to bed. 

The next morning, Daniel wakes up first. He sits, one leg up, on a windowless ledge, looking at the empty world. 

The house is in a ghost town, most others blown down to their foundations. It doesn’t seem to have been that big of a town to begin with, but he can’t really tell. The sun’s already up yet low in the sky, and Daniel swears he can see the wind in the distance. A feather dances down the cracked and worn pavement, black and purple. The sand almost glows in the acute angle of light. _Magnificent desolation_. The words come into his mind, though he’s not sure from where.

He takes the time to look through his mind a bit more. While his eyes trace over the geometry of the landscape, he rifles through repressed memories and connects key moments. _Why does it matter?_ he suddenly wonders. _I’m never going to see anyone of these people again._ It’s his past, he supposes. If it made him who he is, it’s good to figure out who he is. He’s not quite sure, after all. 

A noise behind him. Sunrise sits up and rubs his eyes. Daniel gives a little wave. He waves back. 

It feels like a new day. 

* * *

There isn’t much left to say. Look out at the stars. They’re pretty, aren’t they? Beautiful, even?

They aren’t perfect, but does the beauty make them perfect?

Perhaps.

Dreams and stars have such a strong association, but there really isn’t any reason why. Perhaps we just all have looked up once or twice and seen the beauty of an impossible dream in the stars. But our story trods on regardless, after meaning has been ascribed.

It’s okay.

Just live.

* * *

It’s been… well, it’s hard to tell, but it’s certainly been at least a week. A few months, at most. Time is slippery in the desert like that. In the midst, they’ve settled into a routine. Flying throughout the desert and sleeping wherever, like Sunrise was doing before. Pick up an odd job for a couple of carbons, maybe split up to cover more ground, reunite wherever. Even when they don’t have a set meeting place, they always find each other; it’s easy to guess where the other will head.

It’s the sort of stuff that used to feel unsustainable, like the ground would fall out beneath Sunrise if he ever stopped moving. And really, sometimes it still does. But he has Daniel by his side, and it’s so much better. Daniel likes to slow down, and Sunrise doesn’t mind waiting. It always makes him remember the shifting sands won’t consume him if he just stops.

Daniel’s also settled into the Zones in the meantime. He's got a handful of outfits besides his cursed leather one — turns out he's got an affinity for stripes. His blaster is covered in a messy paint job depicting some sort of fire, luckily not very well worn. He spends a lot of time at Symphony Hall — DJ Hot Chimp lets him mess around with a keyboard, and it turns out he’s got a great natural ear. In fact, he sometimes plays with a few other rock ‘n rollers in a group they’re too hesitant to call a band, but is well on it’s way to being one. He’s thinking about getting his ears pierced. 

He and Sunrise run with The Showstoppers a lot now. It’s good to have people you know will guard your back, and Sunrise feels like he finally fits in somewhere. They call their home Backstage, and it’s great to always have a bed waiting. 

They’re alone today, though. Sleeping at the Diner again, this time on the inside. It’s a guessing game, who will wake up first. This time it’s Sunrise; he’s sitting in a dingy booth when Daniel wakes up and walks over. He stands up, about to play with Daniel’s curls, but they end up closer together than he planned, nearly nose-to-nose. Again, he’s struck by how tall Daniel Inflammable is. Sunrise tends to be one of the tallest people in a room, if not the tallest. 

Sunrise puts his arms around Daniel, one hand on the back of his head, one on his back. “Um,” Dan says. He looks into Sunrise’s eyes, which are sparkling in the morning light. They’re like a kaleidoscope, shades of blue interwoven with green and flecks of yellow. They’re beautiful. They also keep looking at his lips. Daniel’s not sure where all his breath went. 

“Can I kiss you?” Sunrise asks. 

“Yes, please—” he’s cut off by Sunrise closing the gap. It’s sweet. Actually, really, was he eating candy or something? Because his lips are _really_ sweet. 

They pull apart and open their eyes. Daniel’s looking at him like he looked at the sunset the night before, like he’s even better than that. The Sunrise Kid feels electric. He runs his hands down to Daniel’s, then drops one to twirl around, laughing. He spins back into Dan’s arms and feels like he finally has a home, a real home. 

A little crew of two. Warm and safe, together. Daniel doesn’t believe in spiritual crap or anything like it, but Sunrise feels like it was destiny that brought them together. Who’s to say? Plot all the stars and you’ll find an answer, but it might not be pretty. Say the stars told you so and you’ll have an answer, but it might not be true. 

In the end, we have everything we need right here, or at least it’s worth pretending it’s so. Side by side, running towards and away and just for the heck of it. Say it’s enough, even if it doesn’t feel like it, because maybe it is. 

Maybe it is enough. 

* * *

Life with the Sunrise Kid is running through the desert and tearing away on his motorcycle and screaming the lyrics as loud as they can at an AKA Loretta concert and something worth itself, all by itself. It’s a reason. 

Life with Daniel Inflammable is being home everywhere they are and laughing whenever, wherever, every day and dancing to any music, in any style, at any hour of the day and feeling free and alive more than anything. It’s a future. 

Life together is a late-night thought and an early-morning kiss. It’s a future and a today, a family and unconditional love. It’s a feeling and an emotion and a here. It’s a moment and a present and a now. It’s _living_. Life together is everything, simply because of the rarity of nothing. 

Rare doesn’t mean nonexistent, though; there are still nothing days for both of them. Then life slows down, one of them spending a day caring for the other. Sometimes it’s hugs and holding hands and dancing all through the afternoon, trying to either put a smile on the Sunrise Kid’s face or take the hollow-point one off Daniel Inflammable’s. Sometimes it’s sitting and listening and talking and doing their best to say the right thing. Sometimes it’s just being there in silence. 

Then there’s the day when they run into a group of dracs, luckily with a couple rock ‘n rollers nearby, and Daniel doesn’t even draw his gun. He just stands there and gets shot at, focused on something in the distance. He screams and clutches his head. They get him twice in the leg and once on the arm. It’s a whole week of bedrest, and he can barely walk for a month afterwards. 

One day Daniel wakes up and Sunrise is gone, just gone. Daniel drives the bike aimlessly around the east side of Zone Two. He goes to Platform Zero for the evening and the Sunrise Kid is there. He had run there all day. He’s dehydrated; he didn’t bring any water along. (Daniel had to carry both their bags on the motorbike.) He can’t talk for a few hours. 

The worst is when it’s both of them. The worst is when Daniel hides in a windowless backroom with no light for an entire day and Sunrise has run off, trying to escape the emptiness. Daniel cries and thinks and can’t stand it and still thinks and can’t bring himself to move, while Sunrise is off to Destroya knows where, trying to outrun demons he can’t bring himself to turn around and see. 

Sometimes there are days like that. Most days, nearly all days, are better. And they get better too: Daniel Inflammable finds and reads old books on mental health, learning as much as he can. It becomes a veritable gospel for him. (He still remembers what Show Pony said on his first day.)

It gets better. It really does. 

And the desert said “I love you,” and the stars said “I love you,” and the sun said "I love you," and the wind said “I love you,” but that’s silly, the desert and the stars and the sun and the wind couldn't speak, even if they do love you: it’s me that loves you, no matter who you are, under every sky — under the same spirit of every same sky — in every world, from the beginning to the end and in every moment in between, from _me_ to _you,_ I do. I love you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, you. 
> 
> alkjdflkasj that last bit's a little bit like the Minecraft End Poem lol
> 
> "Magnificent desolation" is what Buzz Aldrin said when he first stepped on the moon. (I'm bitter about this because I made a poster-like thing for " _beautiful_ desolation" two years ago for the 50th diversionary of the moon landing.) 
> 
> Also blatant references to me grappling with the question "Would you destroy something perfect to make something beautiful?" which is from, like, the trailer for the "SING" music video. They should've used that more. 
> 
> Fun fact: I tried to used "like a game of TnT run" as a metaphor for "the ground falling out beneath him if he ever stopped" bit, but I couldn't. (I could if I wasn't a COWARD. /lh)


	3. Epilouge/The Ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's like, the proper ending, yet it also feels like a post-script, so I gave it its own chapter, but it's not like a bonus chapter or anything -- like I said, it's the proper ending.

The Girl brings down BL/ind and Battery City. Everything changes and everything stays the same; it’s a new beginning and the next chapter and the same story all over again. The Fabulous Killjoys’ mission of bringing the truth of BL/ind and the Analog Wars to light is complete. Everything is about rebuilding, recreating, reviving. With access to BL/ind’s supplies and knowledge, they could maybe even heal the outer zones: they could go past Zone Six. Farther in the world than any ‘joy could ever dream of. 

Daniel Inflammable and the Sunrise Kid get a house. Floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side. The glass is homemade, laser gun-blasted — it’s messy and distorted and uneven, and the sunrise coming through it in the morning is the most beautiful thing in the whole world. 

It’s not very big — it’s barely more than old Platform Zero — but it’s enough. It’s theirs. 

Still. Somedays. The motorbike sits in the corner, and the desert is infinite and waiting to be explored, and it’s not like they  _ have _ to be here, not with a thousand tomorrows on the tip of their tongues, all filled with a future. 

“Run away with me?”

And with all the love and fondness in the world: “Anytime you want.” 

**Author's Note:**

> ... This is 2x the length of anything else I've written. 
> 
> Bonus scenes to come! There was a few things I took out that're still good, so keep an eye out for that!
> 
> Sorry for the constant switching between "motorbike" and "motorcycle" even though I'm American lol. 
> 
> Just realized I have a reference in here to an _improv audio recording I did a year ago I've never shared_. 
> 
> I'm @chemicalarospec on tumblr, though I'm not very active in either of these fandoms anymore. I doubt I'll stop writing though haha. (irl I better have removed by the beginning note: no you can't go here either.) 
> 
> Below this is just crediting elements of the Killjoy worldbuilding:  
> The Witch's Garden - fanon, I think  
> The Nest - canon  
> Paradise Motel - this might be someone's own location? Sorry, I can't remember who.  
> Symphony Hall - mine, place for concerts  
> "Hell Bat" and "deadliner" are mine, go ahead and use, think all other slang is canon (or at least fanon idk)  
> Newagogo and DJ Hot Chimp are canon, I think ya'll know which others are haha.  
> I didn't want to use anyone's killjoy ocs without premission, so all others are mine, but I do like, care about them different amount:  
> York and the NOISEMAKERS - set of ocs I made to complement my old 'sona, Lady Letterbomb (... like my username). I consider these /my/ characters.  
> Bella Muerte - she's literally based off the line in "The Jetset Life". Do with her what you will -- I don't speak Spanish and feel like I oughtn't take such a clearly hispanic name haha; I consider her an "open character."  
> The Superchargers (Galactic Kilonova, Tsunami Storm, Lightning Rod) - group I made up cuz I needed one there. Galactic Kilnova's name I actually had before, from a conversation with a friend. Use the names if you like, though I suppose it'd be nice to credit me for that.  
> The Showstoppers/Backstage - also on the spot; don't care. If this was 2014 they would be other Youtubers. Go ahead and steal the name.


End file.
